


Crazy Train

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: 50th fanfiction!!!, F/M, Human AU, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7756675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love can be found anywhere, and any way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy Train

**Author's Note:**

> BEFORE YOU READ!!!
> 
> This is my 50th Strange Magic fanfic, so I wanted to make something extra special. It's taken me over a year to write this monster, and it was a cathartic experience to say the least. I can only hope and pray that it stands out among my work for something more than just word count, and that you all who have so lovingly supported me on tumblr and/or AO3 will enjoy this despite it being obviously much wordier than my regular stuff.

It was _way_ too early.

For the past four and a half years, Marianne Springfield had been used to waking up at 8am sharp.  In less than an hour, she would be showered, dressed, fed, and ready to start her shift at work by 9am.

Well, that was all over now.  At least until the renovations were done in November. 

A lot had sure changed in the recent years.  She used to be just a simple country girl living in Greenwood, New York, about to graduate high school and marry her hunky boyfriend. 

But she’d been rudely awakened to cold reality when she’d caught her fiancé, Roland, fucking Brenda Pinkerton against the wall of the gym locker-room just after the graduation ceremony.

Everything inside her seemed to disintegrate like acid under her skin until she felt numb.  She actually had to force herself to remember how to breathe. 

After the initial pain had come the heartbreak.  She’d spun on her heel and fled to the sanctity of her Chevy Silverado so she could sob her eyes out in private.  Thankfully, the tears didn’t last long.  They were soon replaced by a searing rage that had the gears swiftly turning in her brain; formulating a plan.     

She’d gunned her truck out of the school parking lot and went straight home, all the while ignoring the tinkling ring of her cellphone; her sister and father trying to figure out where she’d gone off to. 

Her bags were already packed and piled downstairs, ready to go with her and Roland to UCLA, but by the time Marianne started chucking them into the cab-bed, their destination had changed. 

Once her truck was loaded up, she shot a quick text to her sister and took off on NY-417 E for the Big Apple. 

Cliché?

Yup.

Impulsive?

Well, yeah.

Reckless?

Oh, you betcha!

Her father had chewed her out for weeks over the phone about it, that is when Dawn wasn’t whining and weeping for her to come home, or at least give her a more detailed explanation as to _why_ she’d split town without saying goodbye to anyone.  Not to mention Roland’s constant calls, voicemails and texts swearing up and down that it was just one little mistake and that he’d do anything just to make it right and yadda, yadda, yadda.  She had to change her number _three_ times before he finally stopped calling. 

Upsetting her family was definitely the worst part about this whole ordeal, and not a day went by when she didn’t feel guilty for abandoning them…

…but she couldn’t go back. 

To her, going back to Greenwood meant more than just changing location.  It meant returning to the silly, naïve, closed-minded girl she used to be.  The girl that had her head in the clouds and blindly let a guy like Roland control everything about her just because he was hot.  The girl that had foolishly left herself wide open for hurt and sorrow.   

No, she’d made a choice, and she was not looking back. 

It certainly had been anything but easy.  What money she had was originally meant for her college tuition and thankfully, it was all hers.  She’d earned it working as a baby-sitter and part time at the supermarket all throughout middle _and_ high school.  She had to ease dad’s financial worries after mom passed away somehow.  Still, it was a finite resource, and any idiot knew that New York City was expensive as hell.               

She’d be a fool to think she wasn’t _insanely_ lucky. 

After dealing with an endless plethora of leasing offices refusing to rent out to her due to her unemployment status, and being subsequently forced to live in her car for _two_ weeks on a ramen and dollar menu diet, she’d _finally_ managed to find a want ad in the newspaper for a reputable florist shop called the Primrose Petal. 

The owner was a kind old French woman, with no other employees or living family, named Fée Sucre, but her customers just called her “Plum”.  She’d taken one look at Marianne’s sad, skinny body, and offered her the job right on the spot.  She even had a guest room in her townhouse next door that she let Marianne take rent _free_ , allowing her to sell her truck for some extra cash! 

So the pair worked side-by-side, happy as clams, but it was not to last.  When Plum died just over four years later, the bank repossessed her house, but as a fabulous surprise to her beloved housemate and employee, she’d left the Primrose Petal to Marianne, along with enough money to convert the empty second floor into a comfortable living space! 

The only inconvenient part about the situation, was that the Primrose Petal was in a pretty upscale part of Manhattan, and Marianne’s renewed finances until the renovation was finished only allowed her to rent a tiny, studio apartment in _Brooklyn_.  This forced her to take the famous New York subway system to work every morning.  A _forty_ minute commute, _both_ ways, _six_ days a week.

Oh _joy_.    

As if she wasn’t already emotionally ravaged by losing her adoptive grandmother. 

The first day was turning out to be at least as terrible as she’d envisioned.  It was muggy outside, and the stench of the subway stairwell was just as nauseating as she’d been led to believe from all the stories she’d read and movies she’d seen.  The greyish-yellow lighting was eerie enough to make her silently swear to never come here alone at night.  She grimaced as a huge rat scurried around the filthy tracks at the bottom of the shadowy tunnel.  The number of people was high enough to get her hackles up.  She overpowered every so-not-a-morning-person glare and even the occasional cheerful smile presented to her with a ‘class A’ scowl of her own making sure that kept any and all comments staunchly at bay.        

When the damn train finally deigned to pull in, she shoved her way through the masses to the far side of the car; she had a long ride ahead of her.  Yet she had no intention of grabbing a seat.  Sitting in a crowded space would just make her feel small. 

Marianne _hated_ feeling small. 

She immediately zeroed in on a corner underneath a burnt out overhead light, opposite the platform-side doors.  It was flanked by the center-side doors on the right and a clear, plastic partition covered in flyers on the left.  It was tight, but secluded.

 _Perfect_!

She nearly plowed her way through dozens of moving shoulders until she made it to her spot of choice and planted herself there like a flagpole. 

After a few more seconds of rush hour ‘meat-packing’, the subway doors finally slid shut with a hiss and Marianne braced a hand against the wall as the train lurched forward.  Unused to the rocking glide, she had to readjust her stance a few times to avoid losing her balance and crashing into someone.  The air around her reeked with the smell of sweat, cheap perfume, and farts. 

Oh, she was _so_ looking forward to four whole months of _this_!  

It took five minutes before a throbbing pain formed between her perpetually furrowed brows.  People sneezed.  People coughed.  There was some lady at the far end of the car talking _way_ too loud on her stupid cell phone.  And some teenage twerp next to her was actually listening to Rebecca Black’s “Friday” on their iPod with the volume turned up so high, she could hear every word blasting from the earbuds. 

_Okay, first of all, it’s Monday.  Second of all, that is probably the worst song ever written in the history of the universe._

Only thirty-five more minutes to go. 

In an attempt to drown out the world around her, she reached into her jacket pocket for her own iPod and put it on shuffle.  Unfortunately, she only got through Clarkson’s “Stronger” and a modern cover of Dionne’s Warwick’s “I’ll Never Fall in Love Again” before the music abruptly shut off.  A quick glance to the dark screen of her metallic purple device brought her the bitter reminder that she’d forgotten to charge the damn thing last night. 

She yanked her earbuds out with a snort of frustration and shoved everything back into her pocket; and that stupid, fucking teenager was _still_ listening to “Friday”!

_Seriously kid?!  You’re listening to it on a loop?!  What kinda loser are you?!_

It might’ve been mean, but Marianne was in a mean mood, so there!  Bored, she checked her phone.

Twenty-eight more minutes to go.

 _Goddammit._  

Perhaps she could make time move faster if she took a quick nap. 

Quickly, she set her phone to go off in fifteen, and slipped it into her shirt’s dress pocket, so that while even on vibrate, she wouldn’t sleep through it.  She leaned back against the partition and turned to rest her head against the small expanse of wall beside the door, but quickly flinched back when she’d caught the image of something small, dark and bug-like out of the corner of her eye.  She might’ve grown up on a farm, but that didn’t mean she was okay with creepy crawlies getting _that_ close to her face.

Calming her pulse, her head shot up to see just _what_ had invaded her space. 

It was a dragonfly. 

Or rather……a _drawing_ of one.

Marianne looked closer.  Thanks to the broken light, it was small enough to not be noticed right away, tucked beside the upper corner of the partition, but the design and coloring was too intricate to be considered common graffiti.  In fact, it seemed so real, she carefully stroked a finger over the insect’s back to ensure it _was_ only a painted image. 

Its head, six legs and elongated abdomen were a dusty grey and she could see the tree bark-like detail on each and every scale.  The four wings even had a few realistically tattered holes, but they were ablaze with iridescent rainbow colors, like those you saw in a puddle of oil and water on a pavement. 

It was _beautiful_.

At first, she wondered about it.  How someone could’ve found the time to make such a tiny, gorgeous thing.  Why they would’ve bothered to put it in such a lackluster spot.  And of course, who the artist was. 

But eventually, she became buddies with it; talking to it in her head like it was a stray kitten or lost child.

_Must be lonesome for you here.  No curse words or “For a good time call such-n-such” to keep you company, huh?_

She could relate to loneliness.  Her throat tightened as she thought of Plum, and though she still spoke to them on the phone somewhat regularly, she hadn’t seen her father and sister in person since she ran away from home.   

_Maybe you don’t belong here, but I’m sure you have your reasons. Or I guess, your artist does.  I know I do._

Even after four years, no matter how much she loved it, she still felt out of joint in this jungle of skyscrapers and yellow taxi cabs.  Regardless, this was where she’d toughened up and found her feet.  She decided to change the subject to less personal territory.        

_You some art student’s tag?  Are there tons of little guys like you scattered all over the place?_

A laugh almost escaped her lips.  She could just see it now!  The mysterious dragonfly tagger terrorizes New York City; leaving hundreds, or even thousands, of insects in every oddball nook and cranny one could imagine.  She would’ve gone with googly eyes or mustaches, herself, but it was an entertaining thought all the same, even though the vibrant and unchipped paint suggested that this fella was relatively new and much too time-consuming to have any clones.      

_I wonder if your artist can draw anything else besides insects.  I sometimes use little bug figurines as accent pieces for my floral arrangements.  I wish I could get in touch with your artist and see some more designs.  With…Plum gone…and with the holidays coming, I need some fresh ideas.  I bet whoever drew you is quite an eccentric.  Probably antisocial like me, too._

She was a little stunned by her eagerness to meet a phantom artist she knew nothing about apart from his or her propensity to draw dragonflies in weird places.  She’d always been interested in the strange, it was one of the reasons why she and Plum had gotten along so well, but this might’ve been pushing it. 

Maybe the lack of companionship was getting to her more than she’d been admitting to herself lately.  Her former roommate/boss was deceased, and her family was hours away.  It was truly amazing how even in a city with eight million people around her, she often still felt like she was all alone.  Somehow, she’d interpreted her unusual find to having discovered evidence of a kindred spirit out there somewhere.

Ridiculous. 

_Your artist is probably too smart for a whacko like me.  Or maybe they’re the psycho.  Who knows?  It doesn’t matter._

Fuck being lonely.  She didn’t need anyone to talk with to feel alive again.  She had the means now; she could get by all on her own; but……another look at the dragonfly made her smirk.

_What do ya say?  Let’s be independent misfits together, huh?  We just might show this town and everyone else what’s what._

It wasn’t until the vibrating alarm on her phone went off as the train slowed down that she realized she’d been gazing at the dragonfly all the way to her stop. 

* * *

For a solid week, Marianne made a 100% successful effort to stand in the same corner of the subway car, next to her new pal.  She formed quite a quaint friendship with the dragonfly.  It was like her pet/best bud/diary and, in her more fanciful moments, her Pokémon.

And then the second Monday of her new travel arrangement came around, and her life would never be the same again... 

It had started out just the same as the previous weeks’ worth of workdays, but this time, when she reached her spot and turned to watch the usual rest of the city’s commuters board the train, a new person stepped into the car. 

A man. 

Now, it was most emphatically _not_ the fact that he was a _man_ that made Marianne do a double-take.  If anything, it was the first identification that triggered her defenses; her breakup with Roland had left her with a less than favorable view of the opposite sex. 

No, it was the _kind_ of man he was that had her zeroing in. 

He was, hands down, the _strangest_ man she’d ever seen.  He was so freakishly tall, his head nearly brushed the ceiling.  His gaunt face was milky pale and his form was ultra-thin, but by no means scrawny.  Even from across the space, Marianne could sense powerful, lean muscles beneath his dark and insanely expensive-looking suit. 

Tall?

Pale?

Thin?

Suit?

What was he, the Slender Man or something?

She just about had her suspicions confirmed, when his shockingly blue eyes landed on her, and the coldest glare she’d ever seen took over his sharp features.  The quick, knee-jerk reaction of fear sliding down her spine made her mentally kick herself.  She’d spent the last few years solidifying one heck of an outer shell so she’d never be controlled by anyone again; especially by a _man_. 

And fear was just another _form_ of control.

Thanking God that her momentary fright was invisible on her face, she squared her shoulders and returned his icy stare with as much hostility as she could. 

To her surprise, however, it did nothing to deter the guy.  He marched across the car with incredible ease, the terrified masses were all too willing to scramble out of his way, right up to her precious corner and actually had the audacity to bump his lanky body hard enough against hers to make her stumble!

What the _fuck_ was up _his_ ass?

Hell if she cared, anyway, but she was certainly not going to let a jerk like him scare her off.  This was _her_ favorite spot on the train, and she had _no_ problem fighting for it, or anything else she wanted, for that matter. 

Bearing the thought in mind, she lifted her chin and took a determined step forward, deliberately slamming her hip against the guy with enough force to make him grunt.  She craned her neck to meet his blazing glare head on.

He _actually_ snarled at her and pushed his leg back against hers.  Since she was already braced for any physical retaliation, their sides remained pressed firmly together, muscles stubbornly wrought with tension, neither one willing to back down.       

 _Don’t worry, little fella!_ She silently promised her dragonfly. _I won’t lose to a douchebag like him!_

Sneering at the man, she plugged in her earphones and smirked as Joan Jett’s “Bad Reputation” queued up.  She felt like such a badass when she turned up the volume loud enough for him to hear and saw him cock an eyebrow at her.

_Your move, Slender Man._

By the time the train came to her station, her legs were practically wailing for a rest, but Marianne felt mighty proud of herself for not letting her literal _and_ figurative guard down, even for a second.  Though she _was_ very surprised when he too, stalked out of the car with her.  The instant they stepped onto the platform, his left arm and her right shoulder purposefully smacked together, like a spiteful gesture of farewell, and Marianne huffed as he stormed off to the opposite stairs.

 _Good riddance._    

She hoped she’d never see that dickhead again.  

* * *

The next morning, she realized God must have a sick sense of humor. 

As she shoved her way onto the train, she caught sight of him (quite an easy feat considering how his head was about a mile above everyone else’s) entering the car from a different door and moving swiftly through the crowd towards her spot again.  The quick, smug glance he shot in her direction confirmed her suspicions that he really _was_ doing it just to get at her!  

_Oh, no you don’t!_

She earned a few over-the-shoulder cries of pain and curses from the handful of feet she stepped on as she practically shredded her way through everyone to reach her corner first.  As a reward for her efforts, she had to bite down on a colorful oath of her own because they’d both made it to the dragonfly at the same time, and were now in the _exact_ same position as yesterday.   

Geez, what the hell was up with this guy?  Why was he even here on this disgusting subway pissing her off?  Was his goddamn limo in the shop?  Did his chauffer have the flu?

Maybe it was wrong for her to make assumptions, but it was rather hard _not_ to, considering how plain it was to see that he was pretty well off.  Despite being pressed against her side, he kept his frown focused somewhere off to the right, stubbornly refusing to look at her. 

Good. 

This gave her ample opportunity to inconspicuously examine him more thoroughly; all while keeping her icy glare in place, of course. 

His suit was even more impressive up close.  It was grey, like the one he’d worn yesterday, but of a darker shade, and it had a dazzling sheen when the light hit it at a certain angle.  Growing up around her fashionista sister, she guessed it was a European brand, but only Dawn would be able to name the designer.  She could see the top of a vest poking out between the bottom V-opening of the blazer, a crisp, white dress shirt, and a black satin tie fastened into a perfect Windsor knot at the base of his throat.  His pants had to be custom made, for he had legs that went on for ages, and on his feet were the best-looking pair of shined, black, wingtip shoes she’d ever seen!         

The briefcase in his hand was a handsome shade of brown leather, but she couldn’t tell if it was faux or authentic alligator from the outer pattern.  She sure as hell wasn’t gonna touch it to try and find out. The clamps and combination lock gleamed like pure gold and…there was a monogram beneath the handle. 

It was printed in an elegant script and upside down from her viewpoint, so she had to tilt her head to read:

A. B. K.

Huh, so he didn’t have an ‘S’ in his name to stand for Slender Man.  Not that it made any difference.  When you were as tall, pale, skinny, and jerky as the man standing beside her, you _earned_ the nickname. 

Maybe the ‘A’ stood for Assbutt. 

 _Assbutt?  Okay, you’ve been watching too much Supernatural.  Stick with Slender Man._   

She glanced over her shoulder at the dragonfly.

_He’s a real nuisance, isn’t he?_

Well, at least it didn’t seem like he was going to bother her in any other way besides invading her personal space, so she decided to lose herself in her music again.

Unfortunately, she still wasn’t quite used to the gentle shaking of the train, so when she let go of the partition bar and reached for her iPod, her balance went kaput.  She only wobbled a bit, but a simple attempt to correct her footing resulted in the toe of her boot coming down on Slender Man’s foot.   

He must’ve thought she did it on purpose, because he jerked against her with enough abrupt force to make her fall backwards against the car wall.  Then he loomed over her and snarled- _literally snarled_ -in her face _again_! 

 _What_ the _fuck_?  Oh, to _hell_ with _this_!

Without even a second thought, Marianne hauled off and punched Slender Man right in his stubbly, pointed jaw.  The feel of impact and sight of his stupid face snapping back was more satisfying than anything she’d felt in a damn long time.  All at once, she heard several gasps of surprise from the other passengers, as well as the train’s muffled screech as it came to their stop. 

Hmm, she must’ve been inspecting his suit longer than she realized.

As for Slender Man, he seemed frozen in shock, at least until his right hand came up to check his jaw.  It looked like she hadn’t broken it.

_What a shame._

He then turned to her with an expression that could melt iron, and she then heard the tell-tale beeping of some phones being whipped out, no doubt in hopes of recording a fight. 

Well, screw that noise.  She had better things to do than waste her time with this obnoxious creep.

Proudly sticking her nose in the air, she shoved past him and all the disappointed, would-be filmmakers and strode off the subway.  She was a bit thrown that the guy didn’t try to follow her and cause even more of a scene, but whatever.  If he tried anything tomorrow, he’d get what he got today and _more_. 

In retrospect, it was probably very dangerous to antagonize a wealthy guy like that.  After all, he could sue her all the way to the homeless shelter.  Or maybe even put out a hit on her; he did resemble every Hollywood depiction of a classic mob boss.

Sadly, for Marianne, intimidation and a short temper far outweighed caution and rationale. 

* * *

- _6 months earlier_ -

_“So listen, I was w-wondering…would you, maybe…like to go out for a cup of coffee s-sometime?”_

_“I’d rather throw you in a wood-chipper and drink your remains.  Now take your damn flowers, and get the FUCK outta here!”_

_The once shy, but hopeful youth, tore out of the Primrose Petal like his corduroy ass was on fire._

_Plum called after him to have a pleasant day, then turned to Marianne with an indulgent smile as she watered a vase of geraniums._

_“You know, dear, in the future, a simple ‘no’ will suffice.  Colorful threats waste sooooo much energy.”_

_“That guy was a total prick!”_

_“Really?  He seemed awfully…lamb-ish, to me.”_

_“He’s a slimy worm trying to ask me out while he’s getting flowers for his girlfriend!”_

_“Oh my sweet, terribly misguided, Marianne.  You’re letting your anger deceive you, for you see, but do not observe.”_

_“What are you talking about?”_

_“Well, darling, if you’d paid closer attention to the receipts, you would’ve noticed that that nice young man has been ordering the exact same bouquet, every four months, for the last year and a half.”_

_“That doesn’t prove anything!”_

_“If you knew the language of flowers as fluently as I, you’d know that the gillyflower and the sage, respectively mean ties of affection and long life.  A very thoughtful ‘get well soon’ message._

_“Then he’s an even bigger shithead than I-!”_

_“And finally, if you hadn’t been blasting your ‘Down With Men’ playlist in your headphones when that young man came in, you would’ve heard me say, ‘Good morning, Gary!  How is your sister doing?’”_

_“……S-sister?”_

_“Yes, darling.  Little Gertie’s been fighting leukemia since she was twelve.  Gary buys her that bouquet whenever he’s in town.”_

_“…Oh…”_

_“Oh, indeed.  Believe it or not, mon cher, not ALL male members of the human race are complete scum.  Some are actually, dare I say it?  Decent?”_

_"Hmph!"_

* * *

Come Wednesday, Marianne fully expected two things:

One, she’d wouldn’t see Slender Man; or two, he’d show up in her corner again and try to start something in retaliation for that sucker punch.

Turns out, she was a _third_ right. 

That morning, she found him already in her corner, but even though he was sporting a nasty bruise on the left side of his face, he was leaning against the partition with his arms crossed and his briefcase on the floor beside him, leaving just enough room for her to stand next to him by the opposite wall.   

Without a word, and keeping her eyes on the dragonfly, she slid past him and into her spot.

Then, weirdly enough… 

.

.

.

…nothing happened.

And even _weirder_?

Nothing happened for the rest of the week, nor the next.  Sure, he’d still give her the stink eye, and refuse to leave that corner, but they’d seemed to have reached some sort of unspoken impasse, and he’d always either make sure there was some space for her, or he’d _make_ space for himself, if she ever got there first. 

Well, that was just fine with her, and she did her best to ignore him, occasionally sneaking unnoticed glances at him to get a load of his nice, silk suits, though she had to admit, the guy sure wasn’t very daring when it came to color.  Nothing but black and dark grey. 

Woohoo. 

Still, she supposed it was fitting for his pale features.  What else would Slender Man wear?  That God awful emerald green Roland was so irritatingly fond of?  Blech. 

 _But perhaps, he should consider navy blue._   She thought randomly on the last Thursday in July.  _It’d go well with his eyes._

!!! 

Where the hell did _that_ thought come from?

The fuck did she care what color he wore?

She shook her head and raised the volume on her iPod.  It was an exceptional distraction, for about half an hour, until Deep Purple’s “Mistreated” came on in her shuffle.  As the song reached its second verse, she notice that Slender Man was staring off into space, but also mouthing the lyrics to himself! 

 _I've been lonely, I've been cold~_  
_I've been looking for a woman to have and hold~_  
_'cause I know, yes, I know I've been mistreated~_  
_Since my baby left me I've been losing, I've been losing~_  
_I've been losing my mind, baby baby babe~_

Fascinated, she surreptitiously watched him go through the whole song, even as he slightly bobbed his head and tapped his fingers against his arm during the instrumental bridges. 

He didn’t stop until the beat picked up at the end of the track, and he caught her looking at him.  His boney cheeks puffed with embarrassment and he turned sharply away from her with an angry snort. 

Marianne had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.  For the first time since they’d met, he’d gone from being a scary-looking jerk, by her estimation, to an adorable jerk.  He kept his back to her for the rest of the ride, but she didn’t stop grinning until long after he’d disappeared into the crowd at their station.  

* * *

On Friday, she couldn’t resist trying to repeat the phenomenon she’d witnessed.  As soon as the train began to move, she cranked up her tunes, but after almost twenty minutes of nothing, she was nearly discouraged.

Until “Trouble” by Elvis Presley came on.

Wow, if she thought it was hard not to laugh _yesterday_ , she was set to pop like a balloon this time!  The image of Slender Man doing kicks and shaking his pelvis like The King was almost just too much. 

When he noticed her watching him again, his scowl was about halfway formed until she disarmed him with an entertained, and _extremely_ rare, smile that made him pause. 

She thought it was perfectly harmless, until he ducked his head and something flipped in her chest at the sight of his ears turning bright pink.  It was peculiar, but she shrugged it off and lost herself to her music again, forgetting about her travel companion. 

* * *

Now, it’s pretty common knowledge to most people in the U.S. that New York City is crowded, even if they’ve never been there before.  Hence, the subway is always crowded as well. 

But sometimes, there are days when some sort of event takes place: a parade, a protest, a grand opening, a traffic jam, etc.  As a result, the subway riders get packed in like sardines, leaving barely any room to even breathe! 

That was the situation Marianne found waiting for her at the station, at the end of the first full week of August. 

By sheer ferocity alone, she was able to shoulder her way to the edge of the platform, before it got too full, where she knew the best door would be for her to get to her corner right away.  There was no sign of Slender Man yet, but she didn’t bother dwelling on the fact.  She be damned if anyone _else_ was gonna steal her place! 

He made his appearance soon enough, and pushed his way to her side as usual, but today’s overly dense masses were not through piling their way inside.  The throng of people advanced, and Marianne flinched when he had to put a hand just above her head beside the dragonfly, to brace himself and give them at least a _sliver_ of polite space. 

But alas, the human tide was not to be deterred, and as the last few morning stragglers squeezed into the car and the doors shut, Slender Man’s strength eventually gave.

He tipped forward, and Marianne abruptly found herself trapped tightly between his torso and the wall.   

In a blink, every single one of her muscles tensed, and only her nails digging into the flesh of her palms prevented her from instinctively beating the tar out of the guy for invading her personal bubble ( _again_ ).  It wasn’t his fault; and in fact, she could see that he was making a valiant effort to keep from crushing her.  He was supporting most of his weight on his left forearm and trying to lean his shoulders and head back so as not to tower over her.  

Considerate, but the downside was that it pressed them chest to chest in the cramped and increasingly hot compartment.  And they were stuck like this for forty minutes. 

_Fuck!  If he tries to cop a feel, I swear, I’ll MUTILATE him!_

She shifted a tad, to take some pressure off her stomach to get more air, and he readjusted as well.  During the process, her eyes glanced to his, and the flash of brilliant sapphire, coupled with the uncomfortable proximity, sent a jolt through her.  She didn’t know of _what_ , but it was sudden and alarming enough for her to firmly avert her gaze and clear her throat as the train went on its merry way. 

It occurred to her about a minute into the trip, that this awkward position made it impossible for her to get her iPod.  So she was literally forced to just stand there and try to find some other way to entertain herself without any technological assistance.  She couldn’t even turn to look at her dragonfly! 

Eventually, as she scanned the forest of clothing and heads around her in painful boredom, her attention was caught by a piece of lint on Slender Man’s right sleeve.  Her fingers twitched with the instinctual urge to remove it, but she squashed the notion almost as soon as it came.  Instead, she became distracted once again by the intricate stitching and gloss of his suit. 

It really _was_ impressive.  She’d bet her favorite eyeshadow that it cost at _least_ four times as much as her rent.  So it truly puzzled her why an immaculately dressed guy like this would bother taking the subway at all.  Surely, a cab to and from Brooklyn to Manhattan wouldn’t break _his_ bank.  Did he just like the subway for some reason?  She knew some people in this city did, but hell if _she_ could ever see the appeal.

Oh, well.  It was none of her business anyway. 

Too bad that, despite her conclusion, her mind was having a difficult time focusing on things other than the man practically glued to her front. 

Damn, he was tall.  Like, she already knew that, but when he was _this_ close?  _Geez_!  Her forehead barely came to his clavicle. 

He also had foregone buttoning his blazer this morning, so she could feel that his stomach was flat and firm.  And for such a narrow waist, he sure had a wide chest and broad shoulders; like a swimmer, all lean and slim. 

She inwardly flinched.

_Okay, I am NOT thinking about this…this…cockroach’s body!_

To prove the point, she looked away, but her eyes ended up falling onto his Adam’s apple, and then traveling slightly up to see the most rugged coat of stubble lining his chin and jaw.  It gave him an almost outdoorsy feature; quite a contrast to his GQ cover worthy attire.  

A careful peek at the rest of his face assured her that he hadn’t seen her ogling.  Apparently, he was far more interested in stubbornly glowering at the ceiling or the partition.  She was grateful for that, since it allowed her to keep on staring at him. 

…

Perhaps he wasn’t as physically repulsive as she’d first judged. 

Honestly, that had all just been a product of her irritation.  His face _was_ thin and sharp, yet it wasn’t necessarily _bad_ , now that she’d could really see it well.  The thick, black eyebrows accentuated his perpetual scowl, and Marianne almost smirked to herself.  She could always relate more to grumpy people than sickeningly happy morons.  And those eyes were a natural wonder!

Gradually, and for whatever reason, she began to suspect something else about him.  He might’ve been wearing the clothes, and had the presence of a man that gave orders and was used to having them followed, but he _didn’t_ have the air of a true businessman. 

There was a sort of…disconnect.  Maybe it was in the way he’d occasionally crack his neck, flex of his fingers on the handle of his briefcase, or twitch his shoulders.  It made her think of a poor insect wanting to molt out of its old exoskeleton.  She could sense (beyond the present situation) his discomfort and dissatisfaction. 

Of course, she had no idea if she was anywhere on the mark, but if she had to guess, she had a feeling he was the kind of person that preferred to work with his hands.  Like a chef, or a mechanic, or a-

The prickly squeeze of her foot falling asleep demanded her rectification, and she shuffled to relieve the pressure as best she could.  When she was finished, she saw that Slender Man had ducked his head and was very nearly burying his face into his upper left arm.  His right ear (the only one she could see) was pink, and she even heard the muted clicking sound of him grinding his teeth!      

She was baffled as to what had caused such a change…

…until she remembered what she was _wearing_.  

Her silver blouse with the _low_ scoop neckline. 

The one she’d specifically bought because it made her breasts look _fantastic_!

And she’d just unwittingly rubbed them against Slender Man!

_Oh._

_My._

_GOD!_

For the rest of the commute, she kept her eyes on the floor and just silently recited the states and their capitals to keep herself occupied.  She was halfway through her fifth try when the train finally stopped and she bolted off so fast, she was certain she accidentally kneed the guy in the shin. 

* * *

Her sister called that night, with a rare helping of good news.  Roland had been arrested at UCLA for drug solicitation, and the investigation revealed a massive scandal: he’d been sleeping with the dean’s wife _and_ daughter!

The shame of it all had prompted Roland’s family, back in Greenwood, to pack up everything and move out of state.  And no matter which way you sliced it, his scholarship was lost, his lying, womanizing nature was exposed, and his record eternally tainted for future enrollment/employment.  

Perhaps it was cruel, but she couldn’t help laughing with Dawn over the phone about how much his life was likely forever stuck in the crapper.  She had no sympathy for the shallow, chattering, shit stain.  Served him right, in her opinion. 

But her humor was short lived when Dawn threw her signature curveball of asking about the dating scene.

Normally, this wouldn’t have bothered her, and on any other day, she’d have deflected it with her usual love-hating snark.  Except this time, for reasons beyond Marianne’s understanding, a grumpy, angular face with delphinium eyes, came unbidden to the forefront of her mind, and her vocal cords......just ceased functioning for a second and a half.

A second and a half long enough for Dawn’s voice to jump three octaves. 

“Oh my God!  You _hesitated_!  You _totally_ HESITATED!  Alright, spill it!  Who is he?  What does he look like?  Is he cute?  Is he funny?  What’s he do for a living?  Where did you meet him?  Have you kissed yet?  Tellmetellmetellme!!!”

“Calm down you crazy chipmunk!  There’s nothing to spill!  There is _no_ guy!”

“ _Liar_!”

“Am not!”

“Are so!”

“So _not_!”    

“You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you have a _humongous_ crush on this guy, but you just don’t know it yet, so one day, it’s gonna hit ya like a runaway bus!  For _now_ , you’re just in denial!”

“I-!  You-!  That is the _dumbest_ thing I’ve ever heard in my life!  Tell Sunny I said to stop taking you to see so many movies!” 

“Whatever you say, big sis!  Let me know when I can meet your new _boyfriend_!”

She hung up giggling before Marianne could bawl her out any further.  

* * *

_I really should pay more attention to the news._

This self-critique was due to there being just as many people crowding the subway station as yesterday, if not _more_!  Marianne still hadn’t a clue as to what might’ve been going on in the city to warrant such a population growth, but she wished it would pass by Monday morning. 

What if she and Slender Man were forced into the same position again?  

Dawn’s words nagged at her, despite having _no_ merit _whatsoever_.  Still, it was enough for her to keep her head down and not even attempt to catch a glimpse of _him_.

Same as before, she pushed her way to the most advantageous spot on the platform and hurried to her corner once the train pulled in.  She barely had time to turn around fully before the flood of morning commuters surrounded and compressed her. 

Thankfully, she’d had the foresight to put her earbuds in on her way out of her apartment, so all she had to do was press the play button. 

But her earlier fear was well founded……and much, much _worse_. 

Slender Man had been right next to her, and was once again propping himself up on his left forearm, but the sheer volume of the throng behind him was thicker and more demanding this go round, so he’d been shoved against her without even an inch of wiggle room.  His shoulders and head had no choice but to curl over her this time, and Marianne found her face almost buried in his lapel. 

He was tenser than a tree and she was in a similar state.  Gritting her teeth, she started her playlist and clenched her eyes shut, mentally pleading with the music to help her concentrate on literally _anything_ else.  

Her plan lasted her through “Barracuda”, “People are Strange”, and “Rebel, Rebel”, but a third of the way through a track from John Barry’s score to _The Scarlet Letter_ , she was thoroughly distracted again by something other than the hard lines of Slender Man’s body.

There was a scent about him.  It wasn’t artificial, at least as far as she could tell.  There was something open and wild about it, yet also peaceful and mysterious.  Like the rainy, wooded mountains around the cabin her family would always vacation at for a week in the summer since before she was born. 

If it _was_ some sort of cologne, it was a fucking good one.  With each passing minute, the more the aroma surrounded her, she felt herself growing more calm and relaxed than she’d been in a long time.  She’d have to be careful, lest she fall asleep right on his chest! 

The thought sobered her a bit and she leaned her head away as much as she could, but was disconcerted by how much her senses seemed to protest the action. 

Was that really so surprising though?  Was it selfish to prefer to smell a man who reminded her of a joyful part of her childhood, rather than a stuffy New York subway?  

She paused the iPod with an inaudible snort. 

Hell if she knew.  It was too early to speculate about fucked up stuff like this anyway. 

She spent the rest of the ride frowning at nothing, and _not_ paying any more attention to Slender Man’s scent, physique, nor periodic gulping and uncomfortable huffs.  She just wished it wasn’t so damn hot in this car!

When they reached their destination and the doors opened, it was like breaking through the ocean’s surface.  Marianne practically deflated with relief at the tangible freedom.  She exited the train with much more dignity than the previous morning, but not sparing a glance at Slender Man, regardless.

As she climbed the steps to the street, she pulled out her iPod to shut it off, but froze when she saw the name of the track she’d stopped on. 

“I’m Not the Man I Seem” 

Her mouth opened and closed twice before she gathered her wits and powered down the device.

 _Just a coincidence._ She decided, as she crossed the street on her way to the Primrose Petal.  _A coincidence and nothing more._   

* * *

  _-8 months earlier-_

_“A few years ago, I had a gentleman come into my shop looking for the perfect bouquet.  He was deeply in love with a woman, but he was too afraid to approach her directly, so he came to me for help.  He wasn’t what you’d call, particularly handsome, and he was well aware of the fact, so to give him some confidence, I recommended he buy my famous primrose bouquet and give it to her.  I tried to tell him that, despite the reputation of my lovely creations, flowers were not a guarantee that the lady would accept him, but he was just so impatient, he took off the second he made the purchase.”_

_“What happened?”_

_“From what I heard, she rejected him pretty harshly, and he blamed it partly on me.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was quite a wealthy to-do around here, so he had a lot of social pull.  He spread tons of bad publicity, had the EPA in and out of here, and even the IRS audited me seven times!  Almost cost me my business.”_

_“What a dick.”_

_“Perhaps, but truly, I bear him no ill will.  A broken heart is capable of many a hurtful act when it denies sadness and responsibility.”_

_“If you ask me, he’s probably better off, even if he was an asshole to you.  Relationships are all bullshit anyway.  Love’s just a waste of time and money.”_

_“Those are bitter words, sweetheart.  The only people who say things like that are the ones that have been hurt in the past, but remember this, Marianne: Love is the single strangest and most wonderful thing human beings can give to each other.  I’m not saying ‘go out and get yourself a man’, dear, all I’m asking is that you shouldn’t close your heart off to the world.  Don’t let the cruel and thoughtless actions of just one stupid man affect the way you see the rest.  That would mean you’re still letting him have control over you.  Love takes many forms, but when it’s real, it’s unique and it definitely won’t make sense, but once you get it, you’ll never wanna quit.  Trust me.”_

_“Well, maybe so, but right now, I want nothing to do with it.”_

_“Suit yourself, ma petite princessse."_

* * *

Hallelujah, it was her day off at last.  Marianne could not handle one more jam-packed morning on that subway.  Things were getting _way_ too intimate for her liking, so whatever the particular tourist rush was at the moment, it could finish off the weekend without her. 

She busied herself with vacuuming, dusting, taking out the trash, and doing laundry, making sure to blast her radio for ambiance.  By the time she was done, it was only 11:12am. 

Her social media sites entertained her for the next hour.  She wrote an old high school classmate “Happy Birthday! ;)” on Facebook, checked Twitter and Tumblr, but didn’t bother to make any posts.  Then, she scrolled through her Pinterest account, which she really only had just to check her sister’s crafts and recipes; the latter of which often proved pretty useful in her bachelorette lifestyle.  But there weren’t any new pins, and so she decided to head down the block to pick up a pizza pie for lunch. 

When she got back, she snatched a Coke from the fridge, and settled on the couch with two slices, ready to give the rest of her afternoon to Netflix. 

By 2:07pm, she’d devoured half the pizza, and was watching some comedy drama, with a grin on her face at the glory of Alan Cumming, when her thoughts began to drift…

Something about the actor on the screen kept reminding her of Slender Man.  She wondered what he was doing right now.  Did he take the subway this morning?  Or was he a ‘ _remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy_ ’ kind of guy?  The idea made her snicker. 

Focus off the movie, she continued to speculate about her grouchy travel mate.  She pictured him living alone with a cat, in a manically spotless, clutter-free environment; surrounded by modern Goth décor.  Like a villain’s lair! 

She could almost see him: sitting in a lounge chair, white, fluffy cat curled in his lap, reading a book with a pair of black, framed glassed balanced on his nose.   

Chewing her lip at the image, she explored a few possibilities concerning his employment; all of which were incredibly demanding.  Though she knew he was muscular, the poor dude would definitely benefit from packing away at least a few cheeseburgers.  There was no way he got his three square meals a day. 

Damn, what must his schedule be like?  She never saw him on her return trip, so he must work past her closing time.  She seriously doubted he took an earlier train, what with his implied wealth and businessman persona. 

_The again, he does look like the boss, so maybe he doesn’t have to be at work the whole day?_

But that raised another question: why would an apparently loaded guy like him be spending his nights in Brooklyn, when he could have a townhome or fancy-ass high-rise in upper Manhattan? 

She thought of Roland, and the bitter, suspicious part of her initially guessed that he was probably married and was visiting his mistress.

No……no, that didn’t seem very likely.  First of all, she’d seen no ring, no hickeys, and there’d been _no_ feminine aroma lurking in his woodsy scent.  

_Thank God._

.

.

.

Woah.

…

Woah, woah, woah, woah, WOAH!!!

What the _mother-fucking_ hell?!

Why was she wasting _one_ goddamn second of her off-day thinking about Slender Man?  And why was she thinking about him so _much_?!  He was nothing to her!  Just some twiggy scuzzball on a train! 

So what if he smelled good, dressed well, was tall and fit, and had eyes bluer than freakin’ _blue_?!  That didn’t mean she needed to speculate about his living arrangements, or job, or _especially_ , his _personal_ life! 

Jesus!

Angered, she shut off the TV and stormed into her bedroom to play some Soul Caliber on her PS2.  The mindless, virtual violence would settle her brain.  She even designed a character to resemble Slender Man so she could punch him out of the ring.

 _Take that you stupid, distracting pinecone!_  

* * *

The train was back to its much more reasonable capacity the next morning, and Marianne could’ve done a twirl at the blessed return of the few respectable inches of space between her and Slender Man, plus the fact that she could see her dragonfly again.     

Those were really the only things she _could_ celebrate. 

There was a new tension in the air as soon as they’d taken their place in the corner and glanced awkwardly at each other.  And to make matters worse, she couldn’t ignore it by plugging into her iPod because, like a _dumbass_ , she’d forgotten to charge it before she went to bed again. 

It was ironic, considering that she’d been pretty much fused to the guy for two days in a row, and yet _this_ was _the_ most uncomfortable subway ride to _date_!  She didn’t know what on Earth was wrong, but she felt oddly cold, as if she was standing just outside the reach of a space heater in the middle of January.  Her heart was pounding harder and harder, a ringing buzzed in her ears, the atmosphere felt too thin, but what scared her the most, was that she kept catching herself subtly leaning in his direction, hoping to get a whiff of his intoxicating scent.  

And it did NOT help that she would often see him watching her out of the corner of his eye!

When they reached their stop, and she was bustling her embarrassed self out the doors, she decided she was _so_ going to buy one of those portable chargers. 

* * *

For the next two months, Marianne tasked herself with ignoring Slender Man.  She didn’t like how much he was invading her mind, and how restless he made her feel when they stood together in that corner, but since she was too damn stubborn to just move to another spot, she instead would put her iPod on shuffle as soon as she got onto the platform, and then spend the entire ride from Brooklyn with her back turned to him, creating a tiny haven for herself and her dragonfly.

Every once in a while, she’d catch him glancing at the back of her head in the window’s reflection, and sometimes, she’d even see him eyeing the dragonfly with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Her random, wayward thoughts about him, his life, and what he was thinking when he looked at her, just made her all the more determined to brush him off.

 _He’s a case, buddy._ She’d think to the dragonfly.

No matter.  November was on its way, and soon she could leave both Slender Man and the crummy subway behind her.

…but she was sure gonna miss her little friend. 

Her resolve was admirable, but as the summer faded and the fall chill kissed the air once September died for October, her willpower was truly put to the test one rainy morning at the end of the first week. 

She shook out and closed her butterfly umbrella as soon as she made it down the stairs, and as she walked to the edge of the platform, she snuggled into her comfy, gold cashmere sweater her sister gave her last year. 

Dawn might be a handful, but she had great taste in birthday presents.

Music already blasting away, Marianne casually glanced around the station at the growing crowd of wet, bundled up Saturday morning commuters, when someone approaching from the opposite stairs caught her eye.

_Holy._

_Shit._

He was wearing a trench coat!

A great big, black, double breasted one, with a belt, and a tail that reached past his knees, so it almost looked like a cape hanging from his shoulders! 

In his hands (which were clad in black, leather gloves) he carried a matching umbrella of his own, and his regular briefcase.     

He looked like the Godfather, Dracula, and Heathcliff, all rolled into one!

 _You're a heartbreaker~_  
_Dream maker, a love taker~_  
_Don't you mess around with me~_

Horrified at the fact that she could practically feel her face hanging open in awe, she snapped out of it and turned her head back in the direction of the tunnel before Slender Man could notice her gaping like a halfwit 

_Relax, girl!  It’s not like you’ve never seen a guy in a trench coat before!  So what if he looks damn cool?  Whoop de doo!  You don’t care, so just stick to the plan!_

She must’ve looked like a nutcase, later on as the train made its way uptown; standing there with her arms crossed, drumming her fingers and bouncing her knee while glaring daggers at the bottom corner of the window.  She didn’t even bother fiddling with her iPod to periodically adjust the volume or skip songs she wasn’t in the mood to hear. 

Nope, she just let the music play straight through, while fighting against every last bizarre pull in her gut, telling her to either stare at Slender Man, or move _closer_!  

_What the fuck is the matter with me?!_

After a freaking _millennia_ , the subway reached its Manhattan stop, but she opted to let _him_ get off first, this time.  She was sick of running away like a coward. 

Burning holes into the back of his stupid head, she marched behind him onto the platform and turned to head to the stairwell.  Her hand barely touched the railing, when there was a sudden series of shouts coming from the other direction. 

Immediately, she spun around to see Slender Man grappling with some young punk in an ivory hoodie trying to steal his briefcase.     

It all happened so fast: With fluidity, precision, and _fury_ , Slender Man struck the would-be thief hard across the calves with his umbrella to knock him off balance.  He then wrenched his briefcase free and pinned the guy against the tile wall with his arm.  For the final touch, he kneed him sharply in the groin and the thug dropped to the ground, curled up in a ball and groaning in pain.   

A few spectators in the small group of people that had paused to watch (or record) the ordeal, gave a bit of an applause as Slender Man adjusted his coat.    

Marianne was equal parts motionless and speechless at such a display of strength and skill.  She felt as if the entire underground space was falling away, leaving only herself and Slender Man in an endless void. 

At that moment, his eyes met hers.  Even from a distance, she saw the few stray bangs that had fallen over his forehead, and the exerted rise and fall of his chest from the fight.

…

And then it hit her. 

With the ferocity and shock of a baseball through a stained-glass window; splintering sharp, colorful shards of reality to cut through every last barrier of denial she’d upheld until now. 

Her breath left her, and her heart did a somersault as she watched him turn away to gather his things, and head up the far steps, seemingly in slow motion; like one of those shitty-ass romance flicks.      

She was _attracted_ to him.

 _Shamelessly_ so. 

.

.

.

 _God.  Fucking.  Dammit._

* * *

Marianne wanted to kill something.  She almost- _almost_ -wished that _Roland_ would show up on her doorstep like in one of those creepy stalker ex stories so she take out her frustration by ripping his grinning, asshat face to shreds. 

After her ‘revelation’ from witnessing Slender Man fend off a hapless mugger, she’d been an absolute mess.  She’d short changed three customers, had to redo twice as many orders, and of course, hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night.

Was she really so pathetic and lonely she had to get the hots for a spoiled, crotchety, scarecrow guy she’d met on the fucking New York subway?

A guy she hadn’t even said a single word to in the entire three months she’d seen him? 

_Fuck my life!_

All Sunday long, she paced around her apartment like an antsy tiger in a cage; too wired and borderline _seething_ to know what to do with herself.  She didn’t _dare_ make any posts on her online accounts that might even _hint_ at her irritation.  Dawn would see them and be blowing up her phone in a flash.  And the last thing Marianne wanted right now was to hear a giggly, feminine voice singing a chorus of ‘I-told-you-so, I-told-you-so’.      

By early evening, she realized she hadn’t eaten a thing, and her stomach couldn’t care less about her dopey hormones. 

Digging into the recesses of her fridge and pantry, she found enough ingredients to make a _monster_ burrito.  She flopped down onto her ratty, beige couch to have her meal. 

Two ferocious bites in, and she was surprised at how much better she felt in general.  It was time to calm down and figure things out. 

So, she was attracted to Slender Man. 

_Now what?_

It wasn’t like she could just change her mode of transportation.  Besides, avoiding him would basically be admitting she was a weakling, and that pissed her off more than having the hots for the guy. 

But it was so unfair!  She promised herself that she’d never fall in love again, and this shit was exactly the kind of stuff that could put you down that dreaded path, if you weren’t careful.  

How had this even happened anyway?  A few weeks ago, he was her sworn enemy, and now he was reenacting the train scene from _Risky Business_ in her head!

_Son of a bitch!!!_

A throw pillow was launched across the room and knocked over a small stack of home gardening magazines she kept on hand for reference tips.  Huffing like a bull, Marianne ran her agitated hands through her hair until her scalp felt raw, and she collapsed against the couch with a sigh.

_What the hell am I freaking out about?  This doesn’t mean anything!  So I think he’s sexy.  Big deal!  I’m a grown woman; I can be attracted to whomever I want.  And considering how it’s been almost five years since I’ve had any……well, who can blame me?!  This changes nothing.  I just gotta hold out for another four weeks, and then I’m home free.  I won’t have to see him again!_

Nodding to herself, and ignoring a twinge in her chest that arose from the last thought, she marched over to her radio, flipped on some AC/DC, and grabbed her favorite violet nail polish for a touch up. 

* * *

_-1 week later-_  

Marianne’s apartment door swung open and smacked against the wall, revealing the frazzled and heaving form of the tenant herself, standing in the threshold.  Her hair was messier than usual, the teal sweatshirt she wore was inside out, her posture was slouched, and her expression was altogether hallow-eyed and slack jawed. 

 _Me and my brilliant ideas._ She thought as she trudged through the entryway, toeing off her shoes, and shutting the door behind her.

The past six days had been HELL. 

Pure and simple.   

For starters, the rain hadn’t let up much, so Slender Man had worn that goddamn (fuck-me-baby) trench coat every single morning.  Secondly, she wondered if the colder weather affected his joints or something, because she noticed that he was cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders more than he ever had before, only now, he’d quietly hum in relief afterwards.

 _Maybe he’s just doing in on purpose to drive me completely loco!  The bastard!_     

And of course, lastly, it had made things at the store even more difficult to handle alone.  You could only throw yourself into your work so much when you were by yourself, and there weren’t many customers or orders for the week.  So her imagination had plenty of time to wander into prime sinners-ville… 

Ugh, she was at her wits end!  All week, it had taken every last ounce of her mettle to keep herself from jumping the guy. 

Who the hell did he think he was?!  What right did he have to invade her every thought like this?!  To look like sex on a stick… _two_ sticks each and every day?!  To smell so good and be so tall and masculine and strong?!  And to make her flesh burn with more desire than she’d ever felt in her whole life, to the point where she wanted to rip off her clothes, crowd be damned, grab him, and…and-

The illusion came abrupt and unbidden.  So hot and illicit, it sent a rush of wanton hunger through her like a blast of air through a turbine.

No.

_No, no, no!_

There was _no_ way.  _That_ was impossible and crazy and about as dangerous as anything imaginable.

She shook off the thought and attempted to go about her business for the rest of the night. 

_I need a drink._

Her dinner was barely touched, Netflix failed to engage her, there was nothing interesting or new on her internet accounts, and when she tried for a book, she just kept reading page three of Jane Austen’s _Emma_ over and over again until she tossed the novel aside in disgust. 

Defeated, she chose to retire early.   

Over the years, she’d grown accustomed to the constant sounds of New York City.  The persistent honking of car horns, emergency sirens, and the occasional yelling in the streets. 

But tonight, the once comforting noises were firing every synapse in her body, all the way to the nerve endings in each finger and toe.  She was a livewire.  And when darkness comes, but brings no fatigue, fantasy will have its way. 

Her motor had been neglected for far too long, and now it was running with a vengeance; all that week.  It was time for satisfaction.   

With each passing second, her breathing grew more and more audible.  The room around her blurred until only _he_ swam in her vision.  Try as she did, she just couldn’t stop her thoughts.  They were _saturated_ with his eyes, his hands, his _body_!  The memory of his scent surrounded her and the staccato of her heart increased.  Heat slid over her chest, all the way to her core, as her mind teased her with a series of flashing images, each more filthy than the last.  Images that fully illustrated what she wanted him to do to her. 

If only she could just breathe in his scent, or better yet, finally hear his _voice_!

Almost without her notice, her fingers drifted towards the waistband of her sleep shorts, and for the first time in nearly half a decade, she thought her queen bed was too _big_ for one.

The cotton material proved a poor last defense as her hand crawled down her previously covered lower belly to the juncture of her thighs.  Her legs shifted further open, and for an even trade, her eyes drifted shut to make her dream Slender Man clearer.  She began with slow, relaxing pets; soft as the caress of a rose petal.  Combing her fingers through her curls and gently massaging her outer lips.  

Clad in his trench coat and a stormy grey suit, Slender Man watched her with his hands in his pockets, looking casual as fuck, but his eyes were electric.  They raked over her body like sensual claws.  Her nipples peaked beneath her tank at the phantom sensation, crying out for attention she could not refuse. 

Her top was slack enough for her to tug the neckline down and expose her breasts to the cool air of her bedroom.  Desperately, she palmed and pinched the left one with a whimper.

The shadows around Slender Man melted away, revealing the empty subway car.  The train was speeding blindly down the track; nothing but stars whipped past the windows.  From her vantage point, she could tell she was in the corner.

 _Their_ corner.      

And they were all alone now.

Her fingertips dipped into her wetness, teasingly spreading the moisture as Slender Man steadily approached her, like a wolf stalking a deer. 

His hands slammed into the wall beside her head and he traced the tip of his sharp nose along her neck.  In reality, it was just a stray lock of her hair, but she gasped and bucked her hips regardless.  She could almost _smell_ him! 

He sank to his knees before her, face so deliciously serious, she trembled with want as his lips grazed her tits and stomach.  She willed herself to be naked, and when he grasped her hips, she planted her feet on the bedding in anticipation for what was soon to come. 

She stroked her clit just as she pictured him leaning in to taste her.  The wicked cascade of pleasure she’d kept at bay for years made her jump from the intensity.  But she didn’t _dare_ stop.  Damn, she’d thought she’d cast off chains when she’d dumped Roland, skipped town and toughened up.  So why did _this_ feel so much more liberating? Because her body couldn’t go another minute with her anti-love abstinence, or perhaps it was because unlike then, she wasn’t heartbroken _now_?  Well, whatever the reason, she was in no condition to investigate it…

Slender Man was _devouring_ her, and she vigorously rubbed her clit in time with each swipe of his imaginary tongue.  The heat was all consuming, the sinfulness of it all more addictive than caffeine.  She could hear him growling in appreciation of his meal.  Her head bowed back against the pillow, but she never lost sight of him. 

His stare was unwavering and hypnotizing.  The blue of his eyes seemed to spread into a mist around them, filling her with a peculiar sense of calm and safety despite her racing pulse.

The coil within her was tensing to spring.  A sheen of sweat glistened across her skin, and moan after moan fell from her lips.  She rolled her nipple between her thumb and forefinger.   

_So close!  Oh God, so CLOSE!_

Then, her lover stood and gathered her into his arms.  His tip prodded her entrance in sync with her fingers.  He said something to her, something she couldn’t make out, but she heard the deep timbre of his mysterious voice, and it thrilled her to the bone nonetheless.  So much so, that she could only say one word in reply:

“Plea-…pl- _please_!”     

And he obliged.  He plunged into her slick depths along with her frantic digits, and the instant they brushed her G-spot, she came undone.  Her back arched perfectly, mouth open wide in a silent howl as her toes curled and she shook all over. 

When it was over, and she sagged into the tangled sheets, it was as if she’d been dropped into a warm bathtub the size of Lake Superior.  All the stress and aggravation of the past few weeks were soothed, for the present.  

As the last aftershocks of her orgasm rippled through her system, she became aware of one very important thing:

She was in _big_ trouble.

* * *

If Marianne had thought getting off would solve her Slender Man problem, she was sorely mistaken.  If anything, her actions had just caused a much more _serious_ problem to arise.

All Sunday long, her mind was plagued by memories of her little ‘session’ and thoughts of her Slender Man.  After a while, it even got kind of scary how thoroughly obsessed she seemed to be.  Like she was missing some vital part of herself, and he was the key. 

Was she imagining the gravity in her chest, whispering for her to go find him?  Or was she just plain losing it?   

She didn’t understand it at all.  It was as if she was under a _spell_! 

No, that was just nuts.  There was no such thing. 

But then what else could explain such feelings?  Somehow, good old fashioned horniness didn’t seem to be enough.  

Well, weird emotions aside, there was at least _one_ truth she wouldn’t argue with nor mull over for being confusing.

She wanted him.

And it honestly looked like she wasn’t going to have another moment’s peace until she had him. 

_So…what’s a girl to do about it?_

Plopping her head back against the arm of the couch, she ate her Pringles and let her eyes aimlessly wander around her sparse apartment, until they landed on her closet, which she could see through her open bedroom door. 

After a moment, a grin formed on her lips.  

_Why, get some payback, of course!_

Hopping up, and not caring about the crumbs dribbling to the rug, she ran into her room and threw open the closet to rifle through her various items of clothing.  The fall temperatures wouldn’t allow for much bared flesh, but she could work with it, even if she didn’t have Dawn’s natural talent for fashion.  And Marianne knew she never looked hotter than when she wearing her _boots_! 

Maybe, just maybe, she could turn the tables on ol’ Slender Man, and make _him_ crave _her_ for a change. 

* * *

_Monday, October 17 th-_

_First day of operation Femme Fatale.  Wore my black patterned tights with my off-the-shoulder, burgundy sweater.  Target snuck three glances that I noticed.  Am on the right track, I think.  Gonna up the ante tomorrow._

* * *

_Tuesday, October 18 th-_

_Basil green, low-cut blouse and skinny jeans today.  Made a show of taking off my coat once we got moving.  Target coughed and actually tugged at his collar!  Saw him staring a few more times than yesterday.  I have some more ideas I’m gonna try._

* * *

_Wednesday, October 19 th-_

_Now we’re cooking with gas!  Navy blue, baby doll top with grey, wool leggings and my ankle boots with the chains.  Repeated same trick with my coat, and made a point to lean back against the wall in a sexy-ish sort of pose, without being too obvious.  Target was grinding his teeth and blushing!  I’m sure of it!  Serves him right for driving me bananas, and still wearing that trench coat.  Tomorrow is gonna be great!  :D_

* * *

_Thursday, October 20 th-_

_Holy hell, I am a genius.  Wore the short, long sleeved, marmalade dress with the black belt and matching high-heeled boots.  Did the coat thing, struck the pose, then focused on stretching: slowly rolling my neck and arching my back.  Made sure to moan just loud enough for target to hear me.  Target was looking around like an animal in a cage, sweating and breathing heavy.  Deliberately grazed target’s front on the way out, and he gasped out loud.  It was awesome!!!_

* * *

_Friday, October 21 st-_

_Black pantsuit with six inch stilettos today.  My feet are killing me, but it was well wort the results.  Neckline was low enough to show off blood red, lacy camisole underneath.  Chewed my lip a lot and played with the hair near my neck and ears.  Target could not keep still or quiet!  Since he seems to love classic rock, I selected music on my playlist that was highly suggestive like “You Shook Me All Night Long”, “Light My Fire”, and “Brown Sugar”.  Played all at full volume.  Very confident it got to him, considering how at one point, target buttoned his coat up from the waist down, and pretty much bolted once we reached our stop.  Ha ha!_

* * *

_Saturday, October 22 nd\- _

_Oh, wow.  Operation Femme Fatale is proving to be a success, but I believe I may be biting off more than I can chew.  Every positive reaction only makes me want him more!  My aubergine crop top and hip huggers were my weapons of choice today.  Also wore my sword charm navel ring.  I really tormented him hard.  Pretended to mess with my bra strap, just to give him a glimpse, and absently played with my sword charm.  Then, I decided to gamble a bit.  I took out my phone, dropped it by his shoes, and slid to my knees to pick it up in the most borderline obscene manner possible.  Yes, I mean my face was level with his crotch.  He dropped his briefcase twice!  But the worst part was when we locked eyes for a couple of seconds as I stood up.  He looked like he wanted to eat me alive right there!  I already felt so sexy in my outfit, it took EVERYTHING in me not to throw myself at him in front of all those people.  Shit!  I know I’m supposed to be getting him going, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take…_

* * *

After another Sunday of strategizing and… _raunchy_ daydreaming (among _other_ things), the next four days proceeded in a relatively similar routine to the week before: Marianne would wear an alluring ensemble, file away Slender Man’s responses, and spend the rest of the afternoons and evenings all hot and bothered. 

On top of it all, was the encroaching day when the renovations would be completed; just in time for Halloween.  But for the first time in months, this realization brought dread and glumness, instead of elation as she packed boxes for the move. 

She couldn’t give up on this yet!  Whatever it was.

Yet, she also didn’t know just what the hell she expected to happen.

That is…

…until _something_ happened Friday morning that tipped the scales forever. 

It had started out as normal as the others, except for one minor detail: the platform was brimming with more people than usual again.  Marianne had to admit, she was a bit unsettled by the development, but it took less than a second for her to figure out the cause. 

_Oh, right.  The weekend before Halloween._

And it turned out to be a blessing in disguise once the train arrived and the masses shuffled inside. 

Dressed to kill in an ebony halter top and purple jeggings, she made her way to their corner, sensing rather than seeing Slender Man following her, but once she reached her spot, the last of the commuters were forcing themselves into the car, ultimately, leaving Marianne pressed against the wall, and Slender Man, pressed against the length of her back!

Her momentary disappointment at not being able to see his face evaporated once the subway began its trek and the proverbial lightbulb went off in her head. 

It was a naughty idea.

 _Outrageously_.

Not to mention totally fucked up!

But then again, when would she get another opportunity as prime as _this_?    

Her throat ran dry and her belly quivered, but she drew rebellious courage from deep down and ever-so-carefully, rocked her hips back against Slender Man’s crotch.

She heard the startled intake of air beside her right ear and it spread instant flames of excitement and hunger through her bones, making any and all earlier inhibitions blow away like smoke. 

So she continued.  Holding a steady rhythm that was subtle enough to be blamed on the natural motion of their public transit, but firm enough to make her point.  He couldn’t escape her thanks to all the people surrounding them, and judging from the quite sizable bulge she could gradually feel poking at her, he didn’t really _want_ to. 

Regardless, little Slender Man’s presence gave her a brief dose of logical thinking.

This was crazy.

Absolutely _insane_!

Rational people didn’t do things like this!  Not even people in the _movies_ did this!  Unless it was a porno, but those were _notorious_ for their absurd and completely _non_ realistic situations.  They were mocked for it! 

So how the hell could you explain this?! 

This was supposed to be real life!   And yet, here she was: grinding up against a man she never spoken to, nonverbally asking- _begging_ -for sex!  

Her actions were inexcusable. 

And besides, so what if he had a boner?  It was a natural male outcome to direct stimuli. 

Her journal entries?  What did they prove?  Maybe he was just clumsy, had a cold, chronic pain, or was just _embarrassed_ at her pathetic attempts at seduction.

.

.

.

 _You know what?  I don’t give a **FUCK**!_  

To underscore her conclusion, she pushed back more firmly, sliding along the outline of his clothed erection in earnest. 

This…connection she felt to him, this confusing drive was frightening and probably more intense than what was sound, but she was a healthy adult and if she wanted to express herself sexually to a man she wanted, then goddamn it, nothing and no one was gonna stop her.  She could entice, she could play, she could-!

Then, as suddenly as a cymbal crash, everything came to a halt once she felt a pair of large hands seize her hips to still their teasing movements.  Immediately, her eyes snapped up to the window and caught his reflection.  Her heart jumped in her chest when she saw the fear in his eyes, but the _haze_ over them, combined with the open-mouth panting was unmistakable. 

Lust.

He wanted _her_ , too.

And he was just as terrified as she was!    

The dragonfly glinted at them under the fluorescent lights.  

* * *

Marianne’s grip on her bathroom sink was knuckle-white.  Her clipped, plum-painted nails barely scraped against the enamel.  A pair of half-determined, half-petrified bourbon whiskey eyes were staring back at her.  She’d rather have the actual drink, but as of last night, her liquor cabinet was officially barren.    

She’d been up late, pacing, drinking, rationalizing, fantasizing……masturbating, until she finally passed out on her couch.  Then as she’d rifled through her closet and dresser this morning, her hand stilled on the handle of her underwear drawer when her mind was assaulted with an idea.

An incredibly stupid, dangerous, perverted idea that would’ve made her small-town, high school self, faint like a wispy, 19th century maiden.    

That was probably the very reason she was mentally prepping herself in the mirror, with every intention of going through with it.  It was her last chance.    

Somewhere in the recesses of her brain, she could hear the appalled shrieking of her sanity.  Oddly enough, its voice resembled that of her father, carrying on about how ‘the rotten city fumes had finally gone to her head’.  Despite the path of her thoughts, Marianne was not an idiot.  She knew full well that this was just about the most perilous thing anyone could do.  They cautioned you against strangers before kindergarten for crying out loud!

But she had crossed a line yesterday; and he did not reject her.  To hell with the risks, with convention, with logic.  At this point, she had nothing to lose.  If this worked, her intolerable throbbing, burning, and ever-present desire would finally achieve the ultimate form of relief, however temporary.    

In her bedroom, her second alarm went off and she smirked when she heard Heart’s “Straight On For You” blaring on the radio. 

_How fitting._

She took it as a sign and squared her shoulders, suddenly feeling a thousand times more foxy and confident.  It was time to head out. 

* * *

The chilly, late October wind bit at Marianne’s bare legs as she hurried down the steps from the street to the subway.  She’d worn a rose pink dress, green, fingerless gloves, and a brown belt with matching suede, knee-high, flat boots.  To keep warm, all she’d wrapped herself in was a long, sweater wrap of wool and rich purple, but with no ties or buttons. 

All part of the plan.

It seemed that fate was on her side today, for the platform filled up with commuters and tourists fast.  Ironically, the coat clad public would provide her with just the privacy she’d need. 

Her pulse was thrumming and her skin tingled with anticipation as she deliberately kept her eyes fixed on the gaping tunnel; waiting.  She was too anxious to look around for _him_ , but he was near.  She could _feel_ it. 

When the train finally slid into position and opened its doors, Marianne swallowed the burst of adrenaline in her breast and walked briskly to the corner as the rest of the throng stuffed itself in after her.  Once in place, she mentally asked the dragonfly to wish her luck before she abruptly spun around to meet Slender Man.

He was visibly perturbed by her sudden move and tried to stagger back a step, but failed due to the persistent mass of bodies around them.  The return of his delicious scent washed over her whole form, and she gave him the sultriest look she could muster as she walked backwards with the advance of the public until they were squished together like they were back in August.

Just as Marianne had hoped.

Only _this_ encounter was going to end differently.  She just prayed it would be the ending she’d envisioned.

The partition and the wall, combined with the handful of passengers directly beside them all conveniently facing the other way, made the perfect faux-room for them.  They were in their own little world now, with no witnesses if they could keep quiet enough.

Which gave her all the more incentive to proceed…

Like a nervous wreck, Slender Man’s eyes flitted around the car at everything but the woman in front of him, but Marianne didn’t let that discourage her.  She kept her gaze on his five-o’-clock shadowed face as she concentrated on subtly exaggerating her breathing through her mouth, so her breasts would push against him, and he’d eventually hear her soft sighs. 

She saw him gulp and curl his lip as he ground his teeth.  The sight emboldened her further.

Due to her intentions, she’d left her iPod and purse in her apartment.  All she carried was her ID, phone, and keys in the pocket of her dress.  So, her hands were free to roam.  With spider-like stealth, her fingers crawled up Slender Man’s open trench coat to play with his buttons and lapels. 

 _That_ got his wandering eyes to focus on her.  They snapped back and forth between her hooded eyes and her fiddling hands, practically radiating astonishment.   

She replied by licking her lips and giving him a tiny, but _blatantly_ lecherous smile, and she could’ve _died_ from his hilariously thunderstruck expression! 

Well, good thing she was more than willing to convince him she was indeed serious.

To start, her fingers brazenly crept beneath his coat so she could massage his chest through his silky grey blazer.  Even with the barrier of cloth in the way, the toned pecs she felt, as well as his hesitant gasp, unleashed a fiery siren within her, and she squirmed impossibly closer.  

His blazer was undone in less than a blink, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from swooning at the low groan he made as she dragged her nails down his tight dress shirt.  She almost squeaked when she felt his briefcase-free hand reach up to settle around her waist, holding her to him, and allowing her to truly feel his strength.

Her hips joined in on the action then, rolling up to meet his and finding an already finding a beautifully pitched tent.  His fingers dug into her flesh as she tantalizingly rocked against it, which was fortuitous, considering how she was on the verge of collapsing when a throaty growl met her ears. 

She recovered fast enough to avoid such a mishap, but in retaliation, she snatched his cobalt tie and led him as deep into their spot as the few empty centimeters left would allow.  He blinked in surprise, but she just gave him a sassy wink and made a shushing motion. 

Tugging him to her level, she planted a blistering kiss to the left side of his neck while simultaneously dropping her hand between them to paw at the hard on in his pants. 

Oh God, the _taste_ of him!  And she thought the way he _smelled_ was addictive!  He was the wilderness on her tongue, with just the salty hint of sweat, reminding her that he was human, and all hers.    

He shuddered and made a choking sound, which was hidden from any listening bystanders by the _*thunk*_ of his briefcase hitting the floor.  His arms encircled her possessively, the unexpected thrill it sent through her veins was nothing short of magnificent, and it only made her stroke him with more zeal.           

Uttering a whine, his head bowed to her shoulder, exposing more skin for her to mouth at, and he trembled; but if he had any notion that _this_ was all she had in store for him, he had another thing coming. 

_Pun intended._

Halting her motions and leaning back to meet his timid, but blazing bright eyes, she grinned with primal, feminine glee at her mark of both violet lipstick she’d smudged on his white collar, and blotchy red she’d left on his throat. 

To reassure him, she kept her grasp firm and used her foot to maneuver his briefcase underneath her so she could stand on it.  She might consider his height a turn on, but it would prove troublesome for what she was about to attempt without some help.

With her new four inch raise, she guided his leather gloved hand under her skirt to her naked center, rejoicing in his stupefied, yet thoroughly flushed look when he realized that she wasn’t wearing any _panties_. 

Keeping his wrist in place, she reached for his fly and unzipped it, all the while staring unyieldingly into his enchanting orbs.  They were stricken, and they questioned her certainty, at least until they fluttered when she nodded and wormed her fingers into his boxers to grip his length.  She fished it out carefully and her mouth watered once she got a load of him.  Thick, long, delectably smooth, and already leaking a bit of pre-cum!  Her pussy throbbed with hunger. 

Which was why when his hand adventurously brushed her clit, she jerked and nearly gave them away with a lusty cry.  She gnawed her lip as his fingers worked her divinely, and pumping him in return was all she could do to keep from plummeting into some sort of coma! 

But she knew they didn’t have forever, so she retook the initiative.  Spreading open his coat, so it would act as a makeshift curtain, she hitched her left leg over his hip, lining him up with her dripping entrance.

Time slowed to a quarter of its usual pace, her cheeks were scorching, and her flesh tickled the same as when one lost their balance and knew they were going to fall.  And she never thought she see the day when she’d be _glad_ she’d been sexually active with Roland back then (even if was lousy), otherwise _this_ would be just painful and awkward, rather than risqué and enjoyable.       

So, taking a deep breath and pressing her face against Slender Man’s thumping heart, she gently slipped him inside. 

Dear God, she was actually doing this!  She was having sex with a total stranger on a crowded train in middle of the day!

And it was, hands down, the hottest thing she’d ever experienced!  The peerless, erotic pleasure he was making her feel, firmly stifled any logical part of her brain trying to stress how wrong-wrong- _wrong_ this situation was.  She didn’t even know this guy’s name, for Christ’s sake! 

.

.

.

Fuck it.

_Literally._

She was on birth control.

And this man…

…whoever he was…

…she _wanted_ him more than she’d ever wanted any man before in her whole life, and if he was going to give himself to her, after all these weeks of silent desire, then dammit, she was gonna _take_ him and _keep_ him and the rest of the world could go to hell for all she cared!

He used the momentum of the train to plunder her; that way, their activity remained a secret from everyone surrounding them in the confined space, and she matched him, drive for drive.  Jesus, it was _waaay_ better than all she’d envisioned the past two weeks combined!  He stretched her so fully, and his movements were strained, but determined.

 _Holy shit, if he’s THIS good standing up on a train, what’s he like in a bed with no one around?!_    

She longed to find out; her nipples were aching to be touched, but their options were limited.  For now, she was content to fuck him here and now. 

Her hands slid inside his blazer, curling around his back in an embrace, and she was immensely pleased to discover that though he was thin, he had wonderfully tight and lean muscles in _all_ the right places.  Drowning in ecstasy, she scratched down his back and was thrilled to see that she’d apparently discovered an erogenous zone, judging from the shuddering gasp she heard and the way he clutched her waist tighter as he flinched and increased the force of his shallow thrusts.   

Snarling, he nudged her right arm free so he could lace their fingers together and pin her hand against the wall, just over the dragonfly.  She smothered her indecent whimpers in his suit, even catching the fibers between her grit teeth twice.

The rapture was building and building.  Every limb was incinerating by the second as they careened to Manhattan _and_ completion.  He grunted in her ear, clasping her as if his very existence depended on it, while she clawed at this back. 

And then they were hurled over the edge of bliss. 

A symphony went off in her brain and body, and she ducked her head and mewled as her passage clenched around him, milking every last drop of his seed into her depths as he stuttered and moaned with her.  The euphoria thudded between them for several long minutes as they held each other. 

Even when they relaxed into post-coital drowsiness, she stayed safely caged in his arms.  He rested his chin in her hair and she listened to their synchronized panting. 

She was astounded at how all her doubts and warnings were dead and buried, how much she _didn’t_ regret this, and how much she wanted to do it again and again and again!     

 When the subway stopped, she was stunned by how much it startled her.  Had she really been so sated, she almost dozed off?

_Heh, guess a real man and a five year long dry spell will do that to ya._

Slender Man must’ve been equally as affected, because only then did he pull out of her, and boy, did she mourn the loss. 

Stepping off  his briefcase and handing it to him (after he’d stuffed himself back into his pants), she tried not to squeal at the tender light in his eyes, his boyish smirk, and the fact that he still had her hand in his!

He led her off the train, and for a moment, she wanted to explode with happiness at the implication, but then the multitude had to ruin it! 

A wave of bodies crashed into them and though Marianne fought to hang on, fingers numb from him trying, flesh and bone were not steel. 

Their link broke. 

Panicked, Marianne hopped up and down as the crowed ushered her towards her stairs, occasionally catching a glimpse of Slender Man’s dark tresses and worried eyes being carried further and further away.  She shoved and searched, but it was no use today.  There were too many people, and by the time they cleared…

…he was _gone_. 

* * *

That afternoon, the workmen came downstairs to inform Marianne that the renovations were complete.  The head contractor scowled when she barely reacted to the pristine kitchen, bathrooms, walk in closets, and bay windows.  She wrote the check for the remaining balance without a word, and when they left, she called the moving company to come to her apartment Monday morning.

It would be the first time in four months that she would travel downtown without taking the subway. 

The fact put her in a catatonic state for the remainder of the week.  Halloween, a beloved holiday for her, passed without any celebration on her side.  Food had the flavor of cotton, her music was just white noise, and the colors of the flowers in the Primrose Petal were monochrome.  A countless number of customers asked if she was alright, to which she replied in the affirmative, but with a fake smile. 

A meaningless, public, hook up wasn’t supposed to hurt this bad afterwards.  It was dumb to be in such a funk, even if the sex _had_ been the _greatest_.  She had no reason to feel like she’d been torn in half.  As if she’d been bereft of something essential. 

So why _did_ she?     

_Because it wasn’t meaningless, was it?_

She’d lost her marbles; developing feelings for a man she had _never_ once talked to, but screwed like a whore on a packed train.  And now she was miserable over the extreme likelihood that she wouldn’t see him ever again.

Pitiful; that’s what she was. 

Even her voice couldn’t hide it when she called Dawn Saturday evening to tell her that the second floor was done and she was all moved in…

“…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes, there is.  What is it?”

“Dawn, I said it’s nothing.”

“Marianne you didn’t sound this depressed when you called us the first time after you left home.  Now, what _happened_?”

“…”

“Is it about that guy?”

“I-!  I gotta go.”

“But, Marianne-!”

“Look, I’ll talk you later.  Let me know when you and Sunny decide on a move in date, okay?  I love you.  Bye.”    

She ended the call, but a text came less than fifteen seconds later stating:

_from Dawn~_

_I’ll let it go 4 now, but we WILL talk about this l8ter! >:( _

She tossed the phone to the couch and trudged into the kitchen to sweep the floor.  It was a task she could always perform absentmindedly.  However, she’d barely moved the broom ten times before her vision stung and blurred.  Confused, her fingers reached up and found a warm trail of moisture down the curve of her cheek. 

“Oh, well that’s just fucking _dandy_!”  She grouched.  “Now I’m _crying_ over him!”   

* * *

_She was in a vast, open field.  The twitter of birds and the swish of the breeze through the grass and the leaves filled the sweet air.  Flowers dotted the ground and a crystal stream ran through the meadow.  Butterflies flitted about, the sun flaring off their gossamer wings, but…there was something different about them._

_They weren’t butterflies at all!  Their bodies, slim, but no taller than a crayon, were humanoid in shape and features, barring the ears, which were elongated with a graceful upward curl at the tips.  Were they fairies?_

_There was laughter and singing all around her, and soon, she became aware that she was one of them!  A pair of shimmering, violet wings with black accents and white spots flapped behind her, keeping her fairy body hovering above the earth.  With childlike excitement, she took flight across the land, pausing only to look at her reflection in the water._

_Despite the tiny size, the wings, ears, and the sleeveless, magenta tunic she wore that seemed to be made from some sort of plant, it was definitely her.  Her signature purple make up was on her face, and those brown boots looked awfully familiar._

_…As did the sword lashed to her hip._

_She struck a few poses, admiring her fantasy form (and the new indigo tights with the gold designs), before taking off again with a giggle.  She soared past lady bugs, tortoises, frogs, and other fairies.  Her lips spread into a genuine smile as she swirled, dove, and flipped throughout the heavenly glade._

_Eventually, she approached a grove of towering oak trees.  At the base, she spotted a line of primroses.  She made a beeline for them, but it was only when she got within arm’s reach that she noticed what was behind them, and halted._

_A great dark forest stretched for God knew how many miles behind the primroses.  The overhanging trees blocked out the sun’s rays, and she heard the rumble of thunder in the distance.  Creepy animal noises disturbed the eerie stillness, and a few times she thought she saw some…goblin-like creatures darting around in the thorny brush.  Overall, the place was steeped in a foreboding aura, and every instinct in Marianne’s nature was telling her to flee._

_That is…_

_…until something lurched in the shadows towards her._

_She was too scared to move at that point.  It was tall and gangly, and she heard the rustle of dragonfly wings as it came closer.  There was a crunchy, crackling, like the exoskeleton of an insect, paired with the unmistakable growling of a predator._

_Marianne tensed._

_But then, the figure looked at her and her breath caught._

_She knew those eyes anywhere!_

_Relief and affection washed away her nagging hesitations.  She’d found him!_

_A slim hand tipped with deadly claws, extended itself to her, and suddenly, the gaping darkness was not a thing to fear or turn away from, but to enter and explore!_

_Immediately Marianne took the hand that was offered, and let her goblin pull her into his realm._

Only there was no adventure to be had.  The blackness was gone in a blink, leaving her plain white ceiling in its place.

A dream.

It was foolish, but her right hand closed, hoping against hope… 

Empty.

She sobbed uncontrollably for over an hour.

* * *

“I’m a fucktard.  I’m a fucktard, I’m a fucktard, I’m a fucktard.  I am a fuck- _tard_!”

The cabdriver gave her a weird look through the rear-view mirror as she muttered her mantra to herself in the backseat.  It might’ve been off-putting to the average onlooker, but it was the most precise description she had for herself considering what she was doing. 

It was Wednesday, November 9th, at 7:30am, and she was currently on her way to Brooklyn to catch the subway all the way back to Manhattan, because she was, as Prince Humperdinck put it in the _Princess Bride_ : “a silly girl”. 

She couldn’t help it.  It was tearing her apart.  She needed to find him; find him and _talk_ to him.  See if…he felt like there was something there too. 

Burrowing into her jacket, she paid the fare and leapt out of the cab, sprinting for the steps leading down to the station.  Her iPod crooned some song she wasn’t listening too.  She’d only brought it along to soothe her nerves, and it was failing as the seconds ticked by. 

When she got to the platform, she refused to scan the crowd for him, because she didn’t want to make an ass out of herself by running to him like some bimbo in a sappy rom-com. 

_No, we’re gonna do this the old fashioned way.  Our way._

After a few minutes, the train came through the gaping maw of New York’s underground system, and Marianne was the first inside.  When she reached the corner, she closed her eyes and scolded herself to take it easy.  No doubt, her over-eagerness made her seem like an escaped mental patient.  Once she was more in control, she turned around and waited as the rest of the passengers loaded on.

But her calm began to disintegrate as person after person entered the car, and none of them were Slender Man.  She couldn’t understand it.  He was always there when she was!  Panic stabbed her chest as the doors slammed shut. 

The train left. 

And he wasn’t there. 

.

.

.

Marianne had never felt so devastated.  She wanted to crumble to the floor and weep, as well as break something and roar until her lungs gave out. 

It wasn’t fair!  She’d endured a cheating ex, several years of an angry single life, the death of a dear friend and mentor, and now the man of her dreams just _vanishes_ when she tries to take a chance? 

WHY did the universe hate her so much?!

Slumping against the wall, as the opening piano and acoustic guitar chords of a certain Alice Cooper song cued up in her earphones, Marianne blinked away the prickling in her eyes.  However, as she did so, a tiny shape of color caught her attention; unfamiliar to the space.  She shook her head and focused in on the change….

…and her heart nearly _burst_ when she saw the new addition to their spot.

It was a _butterfly_!

With sparkling wings of purple amidst a black monarch pattern, and white spots dotting the bottom edges, the butterfly almost seemed to glow against the dull car wall.  Its right wing had been masterfully drawn underneath the dragonfly’s left, which had been re-shaded accordingly to give the pair a three dimensional appearance. 

Together, they conjured an image of joy; the kind of joy one can only feel when their life is touched by someone else. 

Someone _special_. 

And, somehow, Marianne knew it was no coincidence. 

_…he was the kind of person that preferred to work with his hands.  Like a chef, or a mechanic, or a-…_

_An artist!_

It was _him_ all along.

 _He’d_ done this.

He’d done this for _her_.   

The dragonfly and the butterfly.

 _And that's enough for a workin' man~_  
_What I am is what I am~_  
_And I tell you, babe~_  
_You're just enough for me~_

* * *

For a simple flower shop, the Primrose Petal had a knack for chasing away the blues.  It took some doing, but for the past twelve days, Marianne had been feeling marginally better.  The lavish hues and scents of the blossoms she handled cheered her more than they ever had before.  Even if her designs were nowhere near as creative as Plum’s were. 

It was one of the reasons why she couldn’t wait for Dawn and Sunny to come to New York and help out.  Dawn had a gift for stuff like this, and she could sell anything pretty!  Sunny would lend his assistance with picking up supplies, general maintenance, and advertising. 

Marianne’s skills lay more with financing and budgeting.

Speaking of money, even though it would increase their profit, Marianne had resisted the temptation to add a delivery service to their provisions, out of respect for Plum’s memory.  She was all about tradition and believed it was very boorish for her precious bouquets to be delivered to their intended recipient by someone _other_ than the person that loved said recipient enough to make the order.  But if the buyer wanted to hire someone else to pick up and deliver the flowers, then that was their choice.

_Too many people treat life, love, and business like a game, instead of a garden.  Don’t be like them, mon cher._

Smiling at Plum’s words of wisdom, Marianne placed the vase of chrysanthemums she’d been arranging in the front window as Carly Simon came on the overheard speakers.  Thanksgiving was fast-approaching, and though she didn’t envy the poor commuters having to deal with the tsunami of tourists coming into town for the parade, she still got a sinking sensation in her gut when she thought about the subway…

…and _him_.

She hadn’t tried to catch the train again, no matter how much an immature voice in her head bitched about how maybe he was just late that day, or sick, or whatever.  She sucked it up and threw herself back into her routine.  The semi-closure she’d received from her discovery, brought more consolation than she could’ve reasonably asked for……even if she would always miss him. 

Walking back to the check-out counter, she paused by a cluster of forget-me-nots. 

Their meaning and familiar pigment made her throat tighten, but a force she couldn’t identify, coaxed her to lean in and inhale the flowers, despite her knowledge that they wouldn’t be very fragrant at this time of the afternoon. 

…Not the scent she wanted to breathe in, but she’d take what little reminders came.  

 _Now I haven't got time for the pain~_  
_I haven't got room for the pain~_  
_I haven't the need for the pain~_  
_Not since I've known you~_     

_Yeah, okay.  Shut up, Carly._

Rallying her nutty self, she went on to the register, grateful that it was a slow day, but when she rounded the side of the counter, she tripped over the carpet runner and knocked over a hefty box of seeds.  Cursing, she squatted to gather them, when the door decided to open.

* _ding-ding_ *

_Crap!_

"Anybody here?"

“Hi!”  She greeted, awkwardly waving a hand above the counter to draw her untimely customer’s attention.  “Welcome to the Primrose Petal!  I’ll be with you in just a second, I’m just picking up some seed packets that spilled back here.”

“Oh, okay…no worries.”  A deep, male voice replied.  “Do ye…need any help?”

Was that a Scottish accent she heard?  Hmm, nice.

“Nah, I got it.  Were you looking for something in particular?”

“Jus’ a present fer my mom.  Her birthday’s this weekend.”

Aw, cute!  A momma’s boy.

“Alright, what’s her favorite flower?”

“…I…ah…I dunno.”

“Favorite color then?”

“Green…um, I _think_?”

Marianne shook her head and bit her lip to keep from giggling.  Not such a momma’s boy after all.

“Does she have any allergies?”

“…No.”

“What’s she like?”

“Pardon?”

The shop owner indulgently rolled her eyes.

“What’s her _personality_?  So I can arrange something that fits her style?”

“Oh, uh…well she’s very……outspoken.  Stubborn an’ kinda fussy, but she’s tough.  She works hard an’ she’s always go’ good intentions, I guess.  I won’t lie, she can be pretty annoyin’, at times, but she’s very protective; just a bit too nosey, in my opinion.”

“I gotcha.  Well, what mother _isn’t_?”

His chuckle was tentative, but it still had an endearing quality that gave her a rather… _uplifting_ feeling. 

“Yeah.”

A short silence followed, during which, E.L.O.’s “Strange Magic” came on, and Marianne was half finished with her task when he spoke again.

“I can’t believe I’m back here.”

“Sorry?”

“Nothin', it’s just…after I heard about Ms. Sucre’s passin’…I had to come an’…offer my condolences.  I…I was a real ass to her the last time we met.”

“Oh?  That’s too bad, but I’m sure she would’ve appreciated you coming by.”

“I can only hope so.  I caused a lot o’ trouble fer her fer _years_ …an’ all over somethin’ completely ridiculous in the long run.  I was an idiot.”

“…Wh-what kind of trouble?”

“Well, I……I mostly jus’ made a lot o’ bad publicity fer her an’-”

“Wait a minute!  I heard about-!”  Marianne shot to her feet, and the instant she locked eyes with the man, a single word was exclaimed by both parties. 

“ ** _YOU_**!!!”

* * *

One flying leap over the check-out counter later, and soon the shop door was locked with the ‘CLOSED’ sign set in place.  A trail of clothes led from the front aisle, past a knocked over display stand and on into the hallway. 

With the reunion and long-desired privacy finally achieved, gloriously loud and enthusiastic keening moans poured freely from the backroom.  Marianne lay nude and spread-eagle on her work table as Slender Man pounded into her without mercy. 

There was no way to accurately describe her delight.  She couldn’t believe this was real, but it sure as hell _felt_ real enough! 

He was here!  He was here, and he was naked and covered in scars and _tattoos_ and he was suckling her breasts, stroking her sides, and growling as she scraped his sensitive back with her nails and crossed her ankles behind his buttocks, begging him to go faster, deeper, and _harder_! 

The table creaked and bounced against the floor, but she didn’t give a damn.  She wanted this.  She wanted to feel him come inside her again.  She wanted his weight on top of her. 

Over and over. 

She wanted it all!      

Their climaxes came without warning, and it wrenched an earsplitting scream from the both of them.  As they shivered in their afterglow, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended, from how entwined they were with each other. 

As they should be.

Marianne was so drunk on this turn of events, she missed him breathlessly murmuring to her.

“What?”

“I said…what’s yer……yer _name_?”

.

.

.

She started laughing, louder than she’d laughed in…she couldn’t remember when.  She’d had mind blowing sex with the same guy _twice_ , and she didn’t even know his name.  Hell, the first time, they hadn’t even exchanged one word. 

He must’ve understood her amusement, for he laughed along with her for a minute until she regained her composure.   

“It’s….it’s Marianne.”

“ _Marianne_.”

Fuck, she could’ve orgasmed all over again from how reverently his accent caressed each syllable!

“Y-yeah.  And you?”

“Bog.”

“Bog?”

“Bog.”

_How…unique._

But she liked it. 

“Hi, Bog.”

“Hello, Marianne.”

Dear God, if that voice was a blanket, she’d swaddle herself in it!

As their respiratory systems and heartrates returned to normal, they just stared at each other, running fingers through hair, brushing thumbs against cheeks, listening to “Wild Thing” by The Troggs playing in the background, and marveling at how… _right_ everything was at last. 

“I…” he whispered, “…I was so afraid I’d never see ye again.”   

“Me too.”

“…I’ve……I’ve never done anythin’ like this before.”

“Me neither.”

“…”

“…”

“What’s happenin’ to us?”

“I don’t know…….probably best not to question it.”

“Heh…I’m cool with that.”

“Good.”

Unable to take it anymore, Marianne cupped his face in her hands and drew him to her for a kiss.  Their _first_ kiss. 

His lips were thin and scarred, but just as demanding as her own.  Their mouths parted and their tongues battled, renewing their passion and sealing their bond.

* * *

_post script-_  

Everything else Marianne wanted to know came later. 

She learned that his full name was Alan Bogden King, but he had gone by “Bog” since childhood.  He was thirty-three years old, and was indeed a CEO, of a natural energy corporation. 

She learned that it was originally his grandfather’s company, then his father took over and expanded it even more so.  Bog preferred his art, he’d even designed his tattoos, but when his father died unexpectedly six years ago, he had to take over to maintain the lifestyle he’d grown up with, as well as ensure that his aging mother would be taken care of, no matter what. 

She learned that his mother was Jewish, but non-practicing, and had moved back to her native Brooklyn for a fresh start not long before Marianne had begun taking the subway.  Bog had spent a few weeks with her to make sure she was alright, and had opted to take the subway to work, on a nostalgic whim, since he’d often ridden the train to school as a lad.  _That_ was when he drew the dragonfly; to essentially put his name somewhere where he could have a daily reminder of his true talent.  That’s why he’d been so threatened by her when she’d shown up and refused to move.    

She learned that about a month after he went home to Manhattan, his mother had to have open heart surgery, so he’d gone back to Brooklyn to look after her during her recovery and resumed his commute via the subway.  Hence, their meeting.  

She learned that he was just as aware of the growing magnetism between them as she was, but was convinced that she wouldn’t want a hideous freak like him.  Though she made it excruciatingly difficult not to take her against the wall earlier in October when she was wearing all those provocative outfits and making all those noises while she stretched and posed.  His nickname for _her_ had been, “Slugger”.    

She learned that after they _consummated_ their relationship and gotten separated, he’d run up the stairs and tried to head down the block and meet her on the other side, but he couldn’t find her by the time he got there.  He was broken when she wasn’t on the train the following week, which incidentally, was the same week his mother made a full recovery.  So, as a goodbye and an expression of his feelings, he drew the butterfly for her.  He went with violet because he liked that color on her best.     

She learned that the strangeness of their encounter, made him want to make peace with his past by going to the Primrose Petal, even though Plum had already passed on.  What he thought he’d wanted with the woman he’d bought that bouquet for all those years ago, was _nothing_ compared to what he wanted with Marianne.  He’d _never_ get over her. 

She learned that he’d been closer than she thought this whole time!  His office _and_ regular apartment were actually just on the next street over from her shop, but he got off work two hours after she did, so no wonder they never met on the return trip to Brooklyn.

She learned that she _loved_ him, and he _loved_ her.  Almost from the very beginning.

She learned that he was rather scared of Dawn when they finally met in December and she bruised his ribs from the hug she gave him.  He and Sunny got along fine, as soon as the latter got over the fact that Bog’s scowl didn’t necessarily mean ‘kill’. 

She learned that his mother, Griselda, was a very nice lady, with a somewhat… _intense_ personality and an apparently ever-present condition where she saw visions of weddings for her son and his spunky girlfriend.  It must’ve been catching, since Dawn was showing the same symptoms by the spring.  They would satisfy their aspirations (and their own) that fall after Bog selected his two most trusted associates and friends, Stephanie Webber and Theo Brown, to replace him when he resigned and opened a graphic design studio/tattoo parlor across the road from the Primrose Petal.    

She learned that her father didn’t trust Bog, but couldn’t argue against his and Marianne’s flourishing businesses and happiness, so he gave his blessing, and he gave another to Dawn and Sunny six months later. 

She learned she was pregnant on their one year anniversary.  It was a boy.  They named him Rocky. 

The _whole_ truth behind their meeting remained a sworn secret ‘til the grave, but it was an insignificant price to pay for all the insurmountable _magic_ they created from their joining for decades to come.     

And to honor the woman who had inadvertently brought them together, a plaque was hung on Primrose Petal's wall with a copy of the dragonfly and butterfly beneath an inscription that read:     

 _“_ _...L'amour prend de nombreuses formes, mais quand il est réel, il est unique et il ne sera certainement pas de sens, mais une fois que vous l'obtenez, vous ne voudrez plus jamais quitter..._ _”_

_-Fée “Plum” Sucre_

**Author's Note:**

> Well there you have it. Did I surpass myself? Was it worth the wait and the time you spent reading? Let me know what you think in the comments.  
> I love you all!!!  
> <3
> 
> Also, I apologize for any inaccuracies about NYC. I've only been there once and most of the detail about the subway and such was from memory or media.


End file.
